Monday, 21 February 2011

We're Rigged Out In Magnificent Array

A few days ago I asked you lot to decide whether my green turban or my red feather headband was the more eccentric, and you all voted for the turban. Well I had a special reason for asking, and this is it:

"But darlink, vot do you expect for eighteen pence a day?"

Fear not, I'm not going to wear this to school or to pop to the supermarket - I am taking to the stage this week, and this number is one of my costumes.

"Are you in a play, Bette?", I hear you cry, "Please tell us all about it!"

I'm in The Grand Duke by Gilbert and Sullivan, and if you're in the North East this weekend (or anywhere in the UK for that matter, this is what trains and motorways were invented for, people) you simply must come and watch us. You haven’t a hope of following the ludicrous plot, OR of understanding my rubbish Russian (ish) accent, but the music’s very catchy and the bar will be open at the interval in case you need to fortify yourself with gin before the second act. It will be BUCKETS of fun, do come along!

Speking of gin, I don't know what it is about hangovers that makes me come over all rockabilly, but whenever I'm getting dressed the morning after a good party, I seem to be inevitably drawn towards some combination of red, denim and leopard. Here I am yesterday morning before rehearsal.

We left the house at 10.30, rehearsed our socks off, went for a bite to eat, went for "a quick drink", and suddenly it's one in the morning and I'm staggering through the front door AGAIN, wearing my "drunk face", according to Simon, certain that I was going to be facing ANOTHER 'gin head' this morning. How do these situations keep happening to me?! Come bumpers, aye ever so many, indeed!